


Make Out Kids Never Had A Chance

by teenuviel1227



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Angst, Smut, mildly inebriated makingout and sex stuff but nothing too crazy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenuviel1227/pseuds/teenuviel1227
Summary: It started at a party, spiralled into catching feelings, and crashed right into a confession neither of them thought they would be making.Or the one where JiHan are friends with benefits.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this! Summaries and the fic title is from Make Out Kids by Motion City Soundtrack.
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They carved the message deep within our broken hearts that failed to mend:  
> Make out kids never had a chance to be best friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

He’s all soft hair and beautiful brown eyes blinking up at Jeonghan from under long lashes, soft lips sighing against his, skin smooth under his palms. They shouldn’t be doing this, he thinks for the nth time this week, this semester, these past few months. Feelings are tricky and he’s more vulnerable than he lets on--but still, he presses himself closer against Jisoo, tugging at the belt loops of his jeans, slipping a hand under his shirt, enjoying the way that Jisoo’s breath hitches when he runs his fingers against the thin skin of his ribs. _We should stop_ , Jeonghan thinks--and keeps going, mouth already looking for the next expanse of skin to kiss, to lick, to mark as his. Except that's it, isn't it? The thing that's been bothering him: Jisoo isn't _his_ , not really.

 

Like most things, it started with an inebriated Seungkwan trying to find a way to offset the crush he’d had on Vernon by getting _everyone else_ into compromising situations instead of just making a move on the one guy he’d been wanting to make a move on since they were freshmen--none of them had wanted to play seven minutes in goddamn heaven, least of all Jeonghan who had an advanced calculus final the next day. The party was on a Wednesday and a rager because only someone as well-liked as Seungkwan would be able to have everyone in their year turn up to a party smack right in the middle of the busiest week of the semester.

The music was loud, thumping, the drinks overflowing--everyone having brought at least a tequila bottle and some left over gin or vodka (no one could tell which by the end of it) obviously stashed away in the dorms for months, the labels completely rubbed off. Seungkwan and Soonyoung’s apartment right off-campus reeked of weed and cigarette smoke, all of the ventilation and air fresheners they’d put out pretty much useless by midnight.

Jeonghan had tried to turn the invite down and had been dragged along by his roommate Seokmin despite his threats of DDD or Dokyeom Does Dishes for all eternity by reminding him of the fact that last year, Jeonghan had forgotten to greet Seungkwan altogether because of his trigonometry final--he’d been in charge of the cake and forgotten to show up.

It isn’t easy being a math major, Jeonghan had said, turning back to his notes, silver-framed glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose.

Of course, Seokmin had countered that with a so-the-fuck-what, friends don’t forget each other’s birthdays, period--and had thrown Jeonghan’s coat in his face. So here they were: the circle of thirteen people sitting across from each other somewhat reluctantly in what Jeonghan will come to think of as the thirteenth circle of hell in the coming months. Well, eleven. Jun and Minghao didn’t quite count as playing since they were eligible to only make out with each other. Also, they kind of already had the closet by default: as in before they began, Seungkwan literally had to bang on the door to get them out, both of them emerging sweaty and hickey-studded from neck to chest, Jun’s lips swollen to half their normal size.

The bottle was emerald-green, previously having held some sort of or wine named after a kangaroo, that ridiculous emblem spinning and spinning and spinning. _Please, please, please, please, please,_ Jeonghan had thought to himself. _Anyone but me._

It was him. He let out a groan. Seokmin had laughed out loud, doubling over and smacking him on the back so hard that Jeonghan had then preoccupied himself in pulling the hood of Seokmin’s hoodie down over his face and then tightening the drawstrings so that he looked kind of like an oversized baby. He was so caught up he hadn’t even noticed who the person sitting on the opposite side of the bottle was until a hand hovered above him, as if asking him to dance--and he found himself looking up into the pretty face of one Hong Jisoo.

Doe-eyes, slight smile, floppy hair swept to the side. Jeonghan had always found Jisoo, Wonwoo’s elusive roommate, handsome the few times that he’d seen him--they used to call him The Myth because every time they stopped by Wonwoo’s he’d hardly ever be around, always preoccupied with stuff at the library or the university museum. The couple of times that they’d managed to catch him he was on his way out or just stopping by to get something.

 _Shua,_ Wonwoo called him, short for Joshua which was short for god knows what, Jeonghan thinks. He hadn’t thought about it much and in that moment, couldn’t think about much else except that he would have to kill Seungkwan when all of this was over--and then Seokmin. And then Wonwoo for bringing hell in a light blue shirt to the one party that Jeonghan wanted to be able to leave early. _I should’ve pretended to be asleep._

“Shall we?” Jisoo said in English, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jeonghan felt his palms get sweaty as he took Jisoo’s hand, letting himself be lead into the closet as their friends whooped behind them.

The closet was dim, but the weak light was enough to make out the shape of Jisoo’s eyes, nose, lips. Jeonghan felt odd under his gaze, like he was trying to figure him out, read him. “You okay?”

Jeonghan shrugged. “As okay as someone standing in a closet with a virtual stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger.”

“ _Virtual_ , I said.”

“I’m not virtual either.” Jeonghan could tell he found this amusing from the way that his voice lilted--it was a maddening kind of calm. 

“It’s a figure of fucking speech,” Jeonghan had retorted, beginning to grin himself at the absurdity of the situation.

Jisoo shrugged. “Well, we don’t have to if you don’t want to--”

“--they’ll know if we don’t--”

“--that’s ridiculous--”

“--Seungkwan is ridiculously good with people. He’ll be able to tell by the way the door’s shadow falls on the floor or whatever. He saw the whole Jun and Minghao getting together thing on the first day of freshman orientation--"

“--I mean, I didn’t say _I_ didn’t want to. Dude, you can just say you want to make out with me, it’s totally fine.”

“I didn’t--” Jeonghan stopped short, realizing that he had, in fact been making a case _for_ the hankypanky.

Jisoo stepped forward, then, putting a hand ever-so-lightly on Jeonghan’s shoulder. The feeling of it had made Jeonghan’s knees buckle, his restraint dissipating. It’d been so long since he’d been touched--moreso like _that_. Before he knew what was happening, Jisoo was less than an inch away, their noses brushing. Jeonghan found himself putting a hand on Jisoo’s waist to steady himself. When Jisoo spoke, their lips almost brushed, the air passing between them.

“Like I said. If you don’t want to, just say the word and we’ll sit here and play tic-tac-fucking-toe.”

“Fuck it.” Jeonghan pulled Jisoo in by the collar of his shirt, tilting his head as their lips met, Jisoo’s lips parting as if by instinct to let Jeonghan in. The kiss was tentative but deep, tingling, a kind of hunger lighting itself in Jeonghan’s gut, setting everything else ablaze. Jeonghan licked into Jisoo’s mouth, their tongues finding each other--warm, slick. He tasted like wine and something sweet like candy or licorice. Jeonghan pulled Jisoo in closer, looping an arm around his waist before moving to press him against the wall. There was a thud. A shoebox fell off one of the shelves. They ignored it, Jisoo’s hands slipping under Jeonghan’s sweater. Jeonghan let out a small gasp as Jisoo started to draw figure eights on the hollow of his hip, tracing the waistband of his boxers with a sly finger before moving away. Jisoo grinned against him. Jeonghan began to kiss lower, sucking softly on the lobe of Jisoo’s ear, tongue slowly grazing the silver of his piercings. He kissed Jisoo’s neck, the skin soft, so soft--Jeonghan’s hand found its way under Jisoo’s shirt, thumbs pressing against the hollows of his hips as he began to suck, momentarily forgetting they were in a closet at a party with less than four minutes now to spare.

Jisoo slipped a leg between Jeonghan’s thighs and Jeonghan let out an involuntary moan.

“Oh fuck,” Jisoo said, half-giggling as he tugged Jeonghan closer to cover his mouth while accidentally popping the button on his jeans. “They can hear us."

“I'm not the one who started the dry-humping,” Jeonghan managed to retort before Jisoo pulled him back into a kiss, this time hungrier, all tongue and teeth, Jisoo nipping at Jeonghan’s lower lip.

“--okay, seven minutes are up!” Seungkwan’s loud voice came from the doorway. The knob turned.

“WAIT--” Jisoo called, then, making to do up the button on Jeonghan’s pants.

Seungkwan opened it a second too early--there they stood, Jisoo’s hand on the button of Jeonghan’s pants, Jeonghan pinning him to the wall, both of them sweaty, lips kiss-swollen.

Seungkwan burst out laughing. “Jesus. Okay, you guys, I’ll give you a second to get decent.”

The door shut again and they could hear everyone laughing outside. Jeonghan’s heart was still racing, banging against his chest so loud he was sure everyone and their mother could hear it. He didn’t move as Jisoo buttoned up his pants, only registering how big his hands looked, how every finger was long and graceful.

“So, uh,” Jisoo said, shooting him a thumbs up. “That was fun.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan echoed. “Yeah it was.”

Seungkwan opened the door again. “You guys good? Help me out here--I finally got you-know-who.”

Jeonghan snorted. “Yeah, yeah. And fucking finally. You could’ve just asked him, you know. That guy’s crazy about you.”

There was a split-second then, when Jeonghan thought the incident was over, thought that he would be able to go back to his otherwise okay life of math and studying for the next test, this night fading into just another anecdote about kissing a pretty boy in a closet. And then right as they were about to walk back out into the room, Jisoo whispered something in his ear, a blink-if-you-miss-it kind of thing--except Jeonghan hadn’t blinked, hadn’t missed it.

“We should do it again sometime. You know where to find me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's into math and magazines,  
> Director's cuts and gray-sell green  
> Armed with his knife and contradictions,  
> He sees completely through me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspo for Jeonghan playing bass: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-f2J9wzALc
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

It takes Jeonghan about half a week of trying to focus on other things before he sees Jisoo again--he’d aced his calculus exam, although not as well as he’d liked. Used to straight As and his 3.9 CGPA, the 0.1 in question mostly being from his unwillingness to stay awake long enough to excel in mandatory gym class, the A- haunts him, a reminder not just of needing to do better but of that night in the closet: the rush of blood, the smooth skin, the soft lips, pleasure skipping up his spine as the pressure from Jisoo’s leg pressed up just right against his crotch. _We should do it again sometime_ . Had he meant it rhetorically the way people say _see ya ‘round_ or had he meant it like ask Wonwoo for my number? Jeonghan is sitting in his dorm room, drinking a hot cup of coffee like it’s water as the graphs swim on the page in front of him. _This_ is why he’d chosen Math  & Actuarial Science as a degree--numbers can be confusing, sure, but people are a whole other fucking ball game. He taps his pencil against the grid of his notebook, goes over the problem again.

It’s then that Seokmin bursts into their shared dorm room, dropping his gym bags in a heap on the floor before plopping face-down onto his bed. Jeonghan ignores him, still freezing him out for dragging him to Seungkwan’s party. Seungkwan had been spamming with with messages containing Jisoo’s name and kissy emojis all week.

“Hyung,” Seokmin says, turning to look at Jeonghan. “I know you’re doing this stupid snow queen thing and I’m not even sure why when you got to hook up with the prettiest guy at that party but I need to ask you a favor.”

Jeonghan pretends to re-write the given coordinates, letting his pencil drag loud across the paper as he draws out a cartesian plane.

Seokmin throws a pillow at him. It knocks his glasses off his nose and onto the floor. Jeonghan’s vision swims but he keeps writing, only noisily, ignoring Seokmin anyway. He hears laughter as Seokmin stands behind him.

“You’re drawing the coordinates on the table, hyung. Come on. I really, really need your help tonight. It’s a matter of life and death. My getting into the special summer program depends on it.”

“Pick my glasses up,” Jeonghan says, voice sharp. “And wipe them with the microfiber cloth before putting them back on my face and saying _Jeonghan-hyung is the smartest, most handsome person I know._ ”

He doesn’t see it but knows from experience that Seokmin is grinning, hears him pick up the glasses, hears the spray of the all-natural sanitizer, the squeaking of microfiber fabric against the lenses. He puts the glasses on Jeonghan’s face before bowing the full ninety degrees.

“Jeonghan-hyung,” Seokmin says, his voice syrupy-sweet. “You’re the smartest, most handsome person I know.”

“Am I?” Jeonghan asks, already beginning to grin. “What else?”

“You’re also the kindest, the most generous, especially with your time--”

Jeonghan smacks him upside the head before slamming his notebook shut. “--fine, what do you need, Dokyeommie?”

Seokmin grins at the nickname, knowing he’s won. He straightens up. “I need you to play bass at my audition tonight.”

“ _Tonight_?” Jeonghan clarifies. He crosses and recrosses his legs. “So I have like, two hours to learn a song?”

“Hyungie, I’ve made it easy for you,” Seokmin smiles again. “You already know the song and--”

“--Brian backed out, didn’t he?”

Seokmin gets on his knees, pretends to worship Jeonghan. “Oh, Jeonghan-hyung you’re so amazing at playing instruments. Your voice is wonderful with the harmonies and your skills are unparalleled--”

Jeonghan pinches Seokmin’s cheeks. “Fine, fine.”

 

The audition hall is a small one, a couple of other Music majors there, already done with their turn when Jeonghan walks in with his bass slung over one shoulder. Seokmin leads him to the stage, showing him where to set up. Jeonghan takes his time tuning his bass, practicing the song. It’s an old one, a song they used to sing again and again when they were freshmen--but it’s been a while. Jeonghan tries to go over it, trying to remember the fingering, the way the song goes. He sings along softly, not noticing as they turn the mics on.

 _No one can see what my future looks like,_  
_Or what my future will be._  
_I’m a small caterpillar,_  
_Renewing itself once, twice._  
_The cold winter approaches_  
_And it might be cold._

Jeonghan half-closes his eyes, remembering how much he likes this song. He almost doesn’t notice when a soft voice joins his, the strum of electric guitar played with mildest distortion coming through. He looks up to see none other than Hong Jisoo standing opposite him, grinning as he strums his red guitar. Jeonghan keeps singing for lack of a better reaction, adjusting to take the lower register as Jisoo’s voice meanders over the higher melody. Jeonghan grins as they go into the chorus.

 _When the spring breeze arrives,_  
_I’ll chase my dreams,_  
_Spread my wings wide_  
_And fly across the world, freely._

They grin at each other as the director calls Seokmin on stage. Jeonghan finds himself suddenly conscious--he’d worn his glasses out, his hair unstyled, just tucked behind one ear, some of it drooping into his face. He’s wearing the same sweater he’d worn all day--by now wrinkled. All of it too preppy for his taste. _You look like a dork. A math dork._

He glances at Jisoo as Seokmin gets on stage, followed by an apologetic Jihoon who’d just come from class, taking his seat behind the drums. Jisoo looks perfect, Jeonghan thinks. He’s wearing a loose maroon sweater over a crisp button down. His hair is parted to the side, a curlicue kissing the tip of his eyebrow. Earrings glimmer silver in the lobes of his ears. Jeonghan suddenly remembers how they felt against his tongue, how Jisoo shook against him like a flag in the wind--all sighs, soft, trembling. He gulps, trying not to think about it, trying to ignore the fact that Jisoo looks like he’d walked right out of a tourism ad for coming to Seoul in the fall. Jisoo looks up, catches his eye and holds his gaze. He winks. Jeonghan feels his face flush. Jihoon counts them into the song, and it begins.

 

Seokmin takes them out for drinks after--his treat. Jeonghan shouldn’t have come but it was a little bit difficult when Seokmin had aced the audition, when even Jihoon was in a celebratory mood, when Hong Jisoo was looking at him like _that_ while looking, well, like _that_. They sit at the pub right off campus, Seokmin and Jeonghan crammed into one side of the booth, Jihoon and Jisoo in the other.

Seokmin babbles about the program, how he’s so excited, how everything is panning out, how he’s super grateful. Jihoon says something about a project that he’s working on for his thesis which he hopes will be nominated for best in the College of Business. Jeonghan is staring at the way that Jisoo drinks his beer, transfixed at his lips that go at the foam like a kitten would at milk--lips skimming the froth, tongue peeking out to lap at it. Jisoo looks up at him, wiggles his eyebrows.

“How was your test?”

“What?”

“Your calculus test.”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows furrow. “How’d you know about that?”

“Seokmin told Wonwoo you wanted to go home early to study and that you’d never forgive him for dragging you along.”

“Right. It was okay. I just got an A-.”

“Just an A-?” Jisoo grins. “And now you’re here at a pub on a Monday. Tsk, tsk. Partying on a school night _again_. Wilding.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “You laugh but Actuarial Science is basically applied to everything--you can’t take a shit in the morning without at least one thing you’re using to wipe your ass being the result of Actuarial Science.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

“What’s your major anyway, guitar boy?”

Jisoo grins. “Comparative Literature. It's how I know Wonwoo.”

Jeonghan grimaces, takes a swig of his beer. “Speaking of dorks.”

"Well, you know what they say about nerds and hard drives."

Jeonghan's eyebrows furrow. He doesn't know. "What?"

Jisoo doesn't respond, just holds Jeonghan’s gaze steady as he calls the waiter and orders them a round of Tequila shots.

 

He tastes like lemons and salt. They stay long after Seokmin and Jihoon head back to the dorms, insisting they'd be fine, joking about drinking each other under the table, both oddly competitive about everything now that the beer had taken their initial inhibitions down a notch. Before he knows it, Jeonghan finds himself crammed into the bathroom stall, Jisoo pressed up against him, tongue licking into his mouth, lapping against his, slick and hot and hungry. This time, they don’t waste time. Jisoo runs his hands through Jeonghan’s hair, Jeonghan shifts so that he has a leg between Jisoo’s thighs.

“Going right for it this time, huh,” Jisoo says softly, chuckling against Jeonghan’s skin.

“Well, you know. Doing the same thing and expecting different results is madness,” Jeonghan pipes up, undoing the top button on Jisoo’s button down, tugging his sweater loose, the collar giving way to reveal the line of his collarbones. He kisses along them, pausing to suck at the hollow of Jisoo’s neck. Jisoo starts to grind, pushing Jeonghan back against the stall. It rattles, metal against plastic. Jeonghan lets out a soft moan, putting a hand against the small of Jisoo’s back, craving friction, holding him close.

Jisoo undoes the button on Jeonghan’s pants, intentionally this time, slipping a hand in to palm him through the fabric of his boxers. He’s half-hard, growing stiff against Jisoo’s palm. Jeonghan squeezes Jisoo’s ass, grinding harder now, pressing his thigh against the fullness growing in Jisoo’s jeans.

Jisoo’s grip in Jeonghan’s hair tightens as he moves his lips toward the mole on Jeonghan’s neck, licking at it before sucking softly, knowing it’ll bruise ever-so-faintly in the morning. “You wanna try something?”

“What?” Jeonghan asks, his body already protesting as Jisoo pulls away from the kiss.

In response, Jisoo pulls the zipper of Jeonghan’s jeans down further, pulling at the fabric until it pools at his ankles, plaid cotton on denim. Jisoo drops to his knees, pushing Jeonghan’s sweater up to offer him a better view. Jeonghan thinks he might just die. Jisoo looks up at him, blinks as he licks in that slow, maddening way of his at the tip of Jeonghan's cock, now pulsing against his lips, his tongue.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jeonghan says, his breath hitching. He’s unsure what to do with his hands so he strokes Jisoo’s hair. This goads him on and he licks along the length of Jeonghan’s cock before taking him into his mouth. The heat and the wetness is almost too much for Jeonghan to take--for a moment he’s scared he might cum right then and there, but Jisoo adjusts his pace as if sensing Jeonghan's fear, as if knowing from the way he trembles against him that Jeonghan is in danger of bursting.

He takes him deep but moves in slow, shallow pulses, letting Jeonghan’s cock hit the back of his throat. Amber eyes, long lashes. Jeonghan moans from how good Jisoo’s mouth feels around him, from both the desire for release and the want to prolong this moment, to feel this fucking good just a few moments longer.

And then Jisoo makes the most ungodly noise, widening his lips a little, going faster, making a wet sound somewhere between choking and moaning, a kind of high mewling that is full of pleasure, full of the ache to be satisfied himself. At that, Jeonghan tugs him back by the hair--gentle but firm, fucking into his mouth, careful but determined.

“Oh god, Jisoo,” he moans with every thrust. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Right as he’s about to burst, Jisoo lets off, getting up and pumping Jeonghan’s cock until he cums hot and white and thick, leaking against both their sweaters, dripping down his thighs and onto his jeans, the floor. Jeonghan goes limp in Jisoo’s arms, pulling him close, kissing him desperately as he shudders through his orgasm.

When they pull away, Jisoo is looking at him in that odd way again, like he’s amused, almost fond. He reaches for Jisoo’s belt loops, but Jisoo swats his hand away. Instead, he kisses the corer of Jeonghan’s mouth and pulls tissue from the dispenser, wiping them both off.

“But what about you?”

“We should save some for later,” Jisoo says, tossing the soiled tissue into the bin, pulling Jeonghan’s underwear, pants back up before buttoning his pants. “And this time, will you fucking ask Wonwoo for my number.”

With that, Jisoo unlocks the door and walks out into the bar. Jeonghan is left breathless in his wake.

The next day, Jeonghan wakes up and sends Wonwoo a text.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm fond of twin peaks,  
> Afternoons,  
> Inexpensive wine,  
> With cordon bleu.  
> Armed with a plethora of insecurities, we keep each other amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

“So, you and Jeonghan, huh?” Wonwoo says over breakfast the next day, setting his bowl of cereal down on their shared kitchen table. He adjusts his glasses, pulls out a copy of the morning’s crossword puzzle before taking a sip of his coffee. “Can’t say I saw  _ that  _ coming.”

“Oh, well, someone came for sure,” Jisoo grins, wiggling his eyebrows. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, his coffee cup held in hands dwarfed by his overgrown sweater. “I’ll need to have my maroon sweater washed.”

“Jesus.” Wonwoo sighs, filling out the word Petrichor in the Down section. “I don’t need to know that.” 

Jisoo glances at his phone, grinning at how cute Jeonghan’s message is, all weird smileys and emoticons. 

**So. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ What now.**

_ Math & Actuarial Science, everyone.  _ There’s something about Jeonghan that fascinates him: a playfulness undercut by an odd sort of sternness too--like he’s made up his mind to be both a clown and a professor at the same time. He thinks back to that first night, how Jeonghan had seemed to both be arguing for and against the making out in the closet.  _ What a weirdo.  _ And then, of course, there’s the fact that he is an excellent kisser. Jisoo feels a lick of desire in his gut as he thinks back to the night before, the way that Jeonghan had thrown his head back in pleasure, baring his throat, the way that he’d moaned Jisoo’s name through slick lips, the way he’d thrust into Jisoo’s mouth, completely lost in the heat of the moment.   


Jisoo grins as he types his reply. 

**Come over at 2:30, Wonwoo’s got class ‘til 7. You don’t have to bring supplies. （ΦωΦ）**

“Shua?”

“Mmm?”

“I mean, I know you’re older than me and you know, it’s not really any of my business. But be careful with Jeonghan. He’s more sensitive than he lets on and your track record isn’t exactly stellar.” 

**(`･/д＼･) What the hell is that supposed to be please delete that emoticon from your phone it’s so scary. Never type that to me again or I’m not coming over.**

“Ouch.” Jisoo glances up at Wonwoo. “Relax. We’re just having a little fun. I’m not going to make him fall in love with me or anything.” 

Wonwoo shrugs, turns back to his crossword. “If you say so.”

**（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ） Even if I say that you can suck me off this time? （ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ） And I’ll return the favor of saying Jeonghannie you look so fucking good like that （ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）（ΦωΦ）**

Jisoo grins. “I say so. If things get messy, I’ll take care of things.” 

Wonwoo nods. “Okay good. He’s a really good friend of mine.” 

“Don’t worry.” The screen of Jisoo’s phone lights up. 

**It’s Jeonghan-hyung to you.**

 

 

The knock on the door comes at exactly 2:30 PM. Jisoo lingers by the door for a moment, watching Jeonghan through the peephole as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. He’s dressed up today, Jisoo can tell--he’s wearing a graphic shirt under a black leather jacket tucked into tight jeans that accentuate his slender frame. His dark chin-length hair has been smoothed down and his bangs are tucked behind one ear. Jisoo wants to to muss it up, imagines how he’ll look after they’re done, how all that dark hair will look splayed out on his pillow.

Jeonghan looks up into the peephole. “You know I can see your feet under the door.”

Jisoo chuckles, unlocks the door and nods for Jeonghan to come in. “I was just testing your powers of observation.” 

“Right.” 

Jeonghan looks around--he’d been to Wonwoo’s before and hadn’t ever seen it this clean. He grins.  _ The asshole actually cleaned up.  _

“You want anything to drink? I’ve got strawberry cider, some orange juice.” 

“The cider.” Jeonghan says, sitting on the couch. The coffee table is littered with books--as can be expected, he figures, from two Comparative Literature majors. He studies the cover of one of them, dog-eared to death. The book is in English but Jeonghan has read The Picture of Dorian Gray in hangul enough times to know how the transliteration of the author’s name goes. “You like Oscar Wilde?”

“Well, well. The math major reads.” Jisoo grins as he takes two cans of cider, puts them on a tray alongside a bowl of Honeybutter chips. “Yes, I do. That’s The Decay of Lying--it’s essays, not fiction, but entertaining enough. He talks about how lying is necessary to arrive at the truth in fiction. If you make someone believe a lie well enough, that can often open up different truths within that lie.”

“Lot of good that did him,” Jeonghan says. “I like Wilde but a lot of the time I feel like he was neck-deep in his own bullshit, you know? Like he was brave enough to do one thing but not actually brave enough to stand up for it. That’s what landed him in jail--if someone calls you gay and you  _ are _ gay, the last thing you should do is sue them for it.” 

“I don’t think it’s so simple,” Jisoo replies. “It was a time when being openly gay could endanger your life, your family. There are lots of things we take for granted these days--the UK only passed decriminalisation of homosexual activity in 1967 and even then, it was limited to private acts. You weren’t allowed to depict those things say, in a film. There were people being arrested for being publicly gay as recently as 1998. And I mean here, things are getting better to with the whole Beyond The Rainbow thing and Pride marches and stuff but the military still defines sex between two men as  _ consensual rape _ . I think that Wilde was as brave as he could be for his time. And he paid dearly for his cowardice anyway.” 

Jeonghan blinks, noting the way that Jisoo’s ears get red when he’s fired up about something.  _ He’s so smart.  _ “I guess you’re right. I should read more of his non-fiction, maybe.” 

“Definitely.” Jisoo brings over the tray of snacks, putting it on the coffee table in front of them. He pops open a can of strawberry cider, takes a swig. “I’d lend you some stuff but I read super slow in Hangul so I usually just buy the English editions.” 

“Give me a list, I’ll check them out of the library,” Jeonghan reaches for the chips, munching self-consciously, hoping he still looks attractive enough to kiss after crumbs have inevitably fallen and stuck onto his chin. “Why’d you move to Korea by the way? I don’t think Wonwoo ever told me. I’d think there’d be a lot more opportunities for someone studying English literature back in the US?” 

“I don’t want to study English literature,” Jisoo answers, shrugging. “Well not  _ just _ . I was born and raised in the US but grew up not really knowing a lot about South Korean literature, you know? And I was really inspired when people like Han Kang started getting noticed. I kept thinking  _ these  _ are the things that I definitely need to read to know who I am, to eventually make a difference. Everything else too, but most especially literature that belongs to me. I’ve been working on the hangul but I’m definitely glad the English translations exist.” 

Jeonghan grins, opens his can of cider and takes a tentative sip. “Well. I’m glad you moved to Seoul. Or else who would I count on to blow me in a pub and then leave me with a cumshot on my sweater?”

Jisoo bursts out laughing. “To be fair, it was on  _ my  _ sweater too. Why’d  _ you  _ pick Actuarial Science? I mean, aside from the speech you gave me on how I couldn’t wipe my ass in the morning without it or something.” 

Jeonghan shrugs. “It’s simple. You know that movie Mean Girls? When she says she likes math because it’s the same in every language?”

Jisoo nods. 

“That’s because math is it’s own language. It’s a way of thinking, a kind of relationship of things with one another--and I love that. I love how everything is both simple but complex, how you can take things apart and put them back together and arrive at a different conclusion every time. I don’t know, it makes sense. There’s an answer or at least a set of answers--I think that if the world took math more seriously, it’d be a far better place. So.” Jeonghan shrugs. “That’s that, I guess.” 

Jisoo grins. “It’s funny you say that, you know what I was thinking after that first night in the closet?” 

“What?”

“I’ve never met anyone quite as strange as you.” Jisoo sets his cider down on the table, contemplates Jeonghan--there are some crumbs on his lips, at the corners of his mouth.  _ Cute.  _

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeonghan asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

Jisoo takes the cider from Jeonghan, puts it down on the table. His own hands are still cool from the moist surface of the soda can. He inches closer, resting his hand on the couch, only centimeters away from Jeonghan’s shoulder. 

“I mean I can’t seem to figure you out, Yoon Jeonghan. You’re serious but weirdly playful, you’re sweet but oddly domineering, you make out with me in a closet and don’t call me back, you pretend like you aren’t pleased to see me at Dokyeom’s audition--” 

“--hey, only  _ I  _ call him that--”

“--literally everyone calls him that-- _ as I was saying _ , you pretend like you aren’t pleased to see me at Dokyeom’s audition and then you practically devour me in the bathroom.” 

Jeonghan blinks, suddenly aware of their knees almost touching. “There is such a thing as statements that are seemingly contradictory which aren’t--something can be one thing and also another. Just because you’re serious, doesn’t mean you can’t also be someone who likes to joke around. 4+2 can mean 8 but so can 4+4. I’m allowed to be complex.” 

“Sure.” Jisoo grins, scooting closer, lifting a hand to play with a lock of Jeonghan’s hair. “I like that. I think it’s sexy.” 

Jeonghan snorts. “You think that me comparing myself to mathematical contradictions is sexy?”

Jisoo grins, moving his hand to the back of Jeonghan’s nape, softly stroking the hair there, running the dark length of it through his fingers. Goosebumps stand on the backs of Jeonghan’s arms. Softly, he tugs Jisoo closer by the fabric of his oversized button-down until he’s almost sitting in his lap, arms around Jeonghan’s neck. 

“Short answer? Fuck yes.” With that, Jisoo pushes Jeonghan onto the couch, maneuvering himself so that he’s straddling him. Jeonghan’s hands find their place on Jisoo’s waist, lifting the fabric of his shirt ever-so-slightly before pulling him in by his belt loops. Jeonghan presses their lips together, kissing Jisoo soft but eager, tongue skirting the inside of his lower lip. Jisoo parts his lips, lets Jeonghan in. Jisoo doesn’t waste time, starts to grind on Jeonghan, hands busy as they take his leather jacket off, tossing it over to the empty easychair. Jeonghan undoes the buttons on Jisoo’s shirt but doesn’t slip it off him completely, instead slowly peels the fabric off of his shoulders, savoring the way that cloth gives way to delicate skin. He kisses Jisoo’s neck, the line of his collarbones, the hollow of his shoulder. Jisoo sighs under his touch, breath hitching as Jeonghan licks at the soft flesh of his nipples, sucking softly until the skin puckers, grows hard under the pressure of his lips, his tongue. Jisoo rocks against him with more intent, both of them getting harder, the friction from the fabric suddenly not enough. They’re both hard, both know what it is they want. 

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo says, breathless as he pulls away.

“Yeah?” 

“Bedroom?”

“Fuck yes.” 

  
  


When months later, Jeonghan tries his best to bury his feelings, tries to keep things under wraps, it’s this first time that comes back to haunt him--despite his sass and sharp tongue, Jisoo is sweet in bed, gentle, easy under his touch. And when eventually Jisoo tries to run away, tries his best to  _ just have fun _ , it’s the memory of Jeonghan’s warmth, his firmness from that first time that keeps him from succeeding.

They undress each other slowly--taking their time with buttons, hooks, zippers, the little nuances of clothing--both of them taking time to admire the other’s form, their little details. Jisoo notes the line of Jeonghan’s shoulders, broad for his slim frame, watches the line that his pelvis makes before dipping into the hollows of his hips and letting out into the soft flesh of his thighs. Jeonghan watches the slender grace of Jisoo’s waist, the way that his legs are long and slim but shapely, as if made for his hand to graze higher, higher. 

When the final piece of clothing is finally stepped out of and discarded, Jeonghan pulls Jisoo to him, kissing him slow and deep, wanting to savor the taste of him. He keeps a hand on his lower back so that their erections come flush with each other, both of them trembling as a wave of pleasure washes over them both. 

“You were saying about me sucking you off?” Jeonghan whispers into Jisoo’s ear. 

It sends a current of pleasure down Jisoo’s spine. “I’m never one to go back on a promise.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, legs parted. Jeonghan grins, takes a pillow to cushion his knees before taking his place between Jisoo’s legs. He’s hard, leaking pre-cum from the slit--they both are. Jeonghan takes his time, kisses up the inner thigh of one leg, going from knee to the crease of his pelvis painfully slow while his free hand skims the line of Jisoo’s ribs. 

“Oh god,” Jisoo says, hands gripping the sheets as Jeonghan starts to suck on the flesh of his inner thighs, knowing that it will bruise in the morning. “Oh god--” 

Jeonghan takes Jisoo into his mouth, going as deep as he can while keeping his tongue flesh with the underside of his shaft. He lets the head of Jisoo’s cock hit the back of his throat and then bearing down, swallowing against him, the pulsing driving Jisoo mad. He goes and goes until saliva dribbles down his chin, until Jisoo is mewling, mouth unable to do but curse and praise, condemn and worship. 

“Jeonghan-hyung,” he says, voice cracking on the last syllable. “You’re the fucking best, that’s so good. Oh fuck that’s so good. Your mouth, you’re gorgeous. Oh fuck--” 

Jeonghan lets off at that, not wanting things to end yet. He wipes spit from his lips. “--yeah, about that. How about let’s?”

“Yes please.” Jisoo takes a deep breath, nodding as he watches Jeonghan get up, lips upturned into a smug grin. “Stuff’s on the nightstand.”

Jeonghan reaches for the packet of condoms, the bottle of lube before he pushes Jisoo softly onto the bed, pulling pillows under his head to make sure he’s comfy. He brings their cocks flush with one another, using the wetness with which Jisoo’s cock is still slick to rub them against each other until they throb against each other, until he, too, is unable to ignore the ache for release. 

“I’ll open you up, alright?” Jeonghan asks. 

Jisoo nods, blinks up at him through long lashes. 

With that, Jeonghan lathers lube onto his hands, warming them up before softly circling Jisoo’s hole with a finger, feeling it pucker against his touch. He leans down, kisses Jisoo’s temple. 

Jisoo’s hips buck.

“Relax.” 

“I’m fucking relaxed,” Jisoo retorts, toes curling as Jeonghan pushes in softly on the bloom, pulsing in and out, getting him used to the movement. 

“Are you?” Jeonghan says, teasing, grinning as he pushes in deeper, feeling for Jisoo’s prostate and letting his fingertip drag when he finds the soft flesh. Jisoo moans, throwing his head back, baring his throat. 

“Fuck me,” Jisoo says, looking up at Jeonghan with pleading eyes. “Fuck me, Yoon Jeonghan.” 

Jeonghan grins, pushing in again, circling Jisoo’s prostate. “I guess the hyung thing didn’t stick.” 

Jisoo grins before another tremor of pleasure shudders through him. “Jeonghan-hyung, please--”

Jeonghan pulls his fingers out, kisses Jisoo on the lips before reaching for a condom, tearing the wrap and slipping it on. He lathers lube onto his cock to help with the glide before he slowly pushes into Jisoo. Jisoo cries out, hands pulling the sheets from where they’re tucked over the mattress. 

Jeonghan goes slow but steady, doesn’t speed up or move in until Jisoo is ready, until he relaxes under him. He feels so good--warm and slick and tight, that it takes every ounce of self-control Jeonghan has not to barrel into him with everything he’s got. 

“Okay?” Jeonghan asks, breathless from restraint as he thrusts slow.

“Okay. Keep going,” Jisoo is watching him: the way his forearms flex, the way a line forms between his brows, his hair falling into his eyes, the way he tosses it back, showing off the line of his neck, the hollow of his throat. “I’m okay, I’m good. Fuck me, Jeonghan-hyung.” 

Jeonghan pushes into him fully, letting out a loud moan as pleasure pulses through him. Holding Jisoo’s knees close to his chest, Jeonghan gives it all he’s got--thrusting fast and deep, aching for release. 

“Fuck,” Jisoo moans. “Fuck fuck fuck--” 

Jeonghan strokes Jisoo’s cock, using the flesh between his thumb and index finger to move over the head. Jisoo is throbbing with pleasure, now unable to say anything coherent, only mewling under him as Jeonghan pushes deeper, faster, hitting his prostate again, again, again--until Jisoo spurts hot and white onto the expanse of his belly. 

Jeonghan barrels into him then, losing all restraint, fucking into Jisoo with everything he’s got. He keeps his hand going on Jisoo’s cock, enjoying the sound of his moans as he’s almost crying from overstimulation. With a final thrust, Jeonghan spills into the condom, his hand finally stilling as he collapses onto Jisoo. 

Jisoo pushes his hair away from his face, kisses his cheeks, the corner of his mouth. “Goddamn.” 

Jeonghan laughs, gathering Jisoo to him and kissing him slow. “Goddamn is right. Fuck, that was good.” 

 

 

They try not to cuddle. Jisoo remembers his conversation with Wonwoo earlier that day--about not messing with feelings, about keeping things emotionally neutral. Jeonghan tries not to get caught up, tries not to want this to be anything else--it isn’t, he tells himself--but after they’ve both showered separately, after both of them are back in their clothes, Jeonghan finds himself lying down on Jisoo’s bed, a wave of drowsiness overtaking him. His eyes  flutter closed against his will, the call of slumber too inviting.

Soft hands stroke his hair. The bed shifts as Jisoo climbs into bed beside him. 

“You okay?” Jisoo asks, resting his cheek on Jeonghan’s chest. 

“Mmmm,” Jeonghan replies, unconsciously slipping an arm around Jisoo’s waist, nuzzling his neck. “Just sleepy.” 

Jisoo feels a strange feeling then, a kind of fluttering in his stomach, but he pushes it away, doesn’t want to think about that, doesn’t want this to have to end.  _ We’re just having fun. _ He looks at Jeonghan, already asleep, lips slightly parted. He smiles, kisses Jeonghan’s cheek.

“Let’s just lie here for a while, then.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flown in, sleep over winter break,  
> Cocktails and miniature mistakes,  
> Lights out, we're covered in each others' warm embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long. :) I will definitely be finishing these fics--Day6 cameback and my life exploded into smithereens. I will definitely be writing up even more JiHan fics, don't you worry. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

The semester flies by in a flurry of hot kisses and tangled limbs, of intense fucking, of Jeonghan holding Jisoo down by the shoulders as he thrusts into him of Jisoo pushing back, nipping at Jeonghan’s lower lip until they both taste blood, of trembling climax followed by long, lazy afternoons spent lying in Jisoo’s bed talking about books or making fun of each other, both of them not wanting to leave, not daring to ask the other out, trying to keep things casual: a semester of suspended animation. Jisoo’s books end up in Jeonghan’s bag despite the fact that he checks the Hangul editions out of the library anyway--he just likes Jisoo’s handwriting, likes to Google what the notes mean.

In Hemingway’s _Hills Like White Elephants_ : is love just a matter of convenience? Of stature?

In Fitzgerald’s _The Great Gatsby:_ do we just chase ghosts that have haunted us since time immemorial?

In A.S. Byatt’s _Persuasion:_ people can be united by passion, can be brought together by other people’s stories even if those stories are tragic--Rihanna said it: we can find love in a hopeless place.

Jeonghan finds himself spending more and more nights touching his fingertips to where the ink bleeds into the paper, thinking that Jisoo definitely hadn’t struck him as romantic, telling himself it would be easier to take things for what they were if he didn’t keep doing this to himself, if he didn’t keep wondering about the _what ifs_ , about whether or not Jisoo’s heart skipped as far across the pond of his feelings as they did in his whenever they kissed, about whether or not he felt it too. Whatever it was.

Jisoo finds himself reading up on different mathematical concepts, finds himself more and more fascinated in how poetic those functions seemed when you didn’t let, well, the _math_ of it get in the way. He finds himself thinking of the small explanations that Jeonghan offers him, about the way that Jeonghan’s hands are graceful on the paper as they draw arcs and curves, as they sketch out the cartesian coordinate plane, as he tells Jisoo what certain concepts mean--a different kind of translation.

 _Asymptotes,_ that’s basically when something almost happens but just never does: the graph of the function almost touches the axis but it’s never going to. It just comes as close as it can get.

 _Logarithmic and exponential forms_ are basically different ways to solve the same problem: if it doesn’t work one way, try and see it in another light.

It’s interesting enough to Jisoo to ask to borrow Jeonghan’s old notes: his thesis is coming up, a collection of short stories. He has one about two people who seem perfect for each other but are caught  up in an odd situation. He stops writing it halfway, afraid to discover how it ends.

The problem is that Jeonghan thinks Jisoo is the smartest person that he’s ever met, thinks that while he’s still a little shit, he’s probably the most insightful little shit that he’s ever met. The problem is that Jisoo thinks he gets what Wonwoo means now: Jeonghan is softer than he lets on. As odd and standoffish and serious, as coy and confident and funny as he might seem at first, Jeonghan is always looking to _understand._ The relationships of things, he’d said that first afternoon. He was always drawing lines between things. He was math but also literature, it was almost impossible for Jisoo not to fall even a little bit in love with him, for no reason other than he seemed to embody the thing that he loved.

But drawing lines does two things: it can connect--but it can also divide.

As finals approach, their trysts grow quicker, hurried, more to relieve stress, to let pent-up energy go than to bask in: clothes torn off and then hurriedly put back on as Jeonghan dashed for the library or Jisoo hurried to make it to a final presentation.

And then the break hits and both of them are caught in an odd dilemma--so much free time and nowhere to go, nowhere to explore each others’ bodies, nowhere to talk. Wonwoo is home most days, in the throes of his own thesis: a critical analysis of Han Kang’s The Vegetarian vis-a-vis Idol Culture--idolatry, pop music, and the body as a canvas. He uses up the space in the living room, books, papers strewn everywhere. Jisoo is both annoyed but compassionate. That’ll be him in a couple of  months, after all.

Seokmin never leaves the apartment, practices singing all day for the internship which starts as soon as the next semester begins. It drives Jeonghan a little crazy, the high notes that he knows objectively sound good make him want to bury his head in the sand if only for a split-second of silence.

The problem is that they’re both horny as fuck. The problem is that they miss each other like crazy.

 

This time, it’s Jeonghan who makes the call, early one Tuesday morning when Seokmin is out to buy them breakfast from the 711 just off campus. He has at least five minutes, seven if Seokmin runs into one of his many friends--the perks of rooming with Mr. Congeniality. Jeonghan sits at his desk, hopes to god that Jisoo is up early. He picks up on the second ring.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite mathematician.”

Jeonghan grins. “What’s up, Shua? You miss me?”

Jisoo’s voice is soft, sleepy, a little bit hoarse. He lets out a soft laugh and Jeonghan’s heart soars. “Why are you asking me what’s up, _you’re_ the one who called _me_ idiot.”

It’s Jeonghan’s turn to laugh. “Right. So. You busy this break? Seokmin’s been singing so much that every bit of silence is like a slice of heaven I didn’t know I needed.”

“I’d kill for that. Wonwoo’s working on his thesis so I have to be quiet all the time. If I shut the fridge too loudly, he looks up and kind of glares at me. He went out for a jog and I screamed just for fun.”

“Weirdo.”

“You love it.”

A beat of silence.

“So why’d you call?”

"Uh. Okay." _There's no delicate way to say this._ Jeonghan chews nervously on his lower lip. “You wanna get a room? With me, I mean?”

“Awww, with _you_? I thought you were asking about my other friend, Sheonghan.”

“Stop being a little shit. Just say no if you don’t feel like it.”

Laughter again and then quiet, contemplation. “You mean like a love hotel? When and where do you have in mind?”

“There’s a place off of the Hapjeong Exit 9, I think? We could go there, I don’t know like, today? I mean if you’re free.”

“You’re _that_ horny, huh?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s been a while for me too. Today works. What time?”

“Around two-thirty? I’ll go to get the room early then you follow thirty minutes after? So three o’clock for you.”

“It’s like Ocean’s Eleven but for dicking.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s Jisoo, no _s_ , but thank you.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Captain Obvious. That is a _yes_. I will go on this heist for fucking, this quest for your cock, this mission for fornication--or in my case, californication--oh fuck, Wonwoo’s back from his jog talk to you later.”

Just then, Seokmin bounds into the room, carrying their snacks in a plastic bag slung around his forearm, their two coffees steaming in a 711 tray. Jeonghan almost falls off his chair from the surprise, drops his phone on the floor.

“Jeez, hyungie,” he says, laughing as he reaches over, handing Jeonghan the phone. Seokmin glances down at the screen.

**JASHUUUUA :3**

Outgoing Call

00:06:19

Jeonghan takes the phone, clears his throat. “Are we going to eat or are you going to stick your nose in my business?”

“Just be careful, hyung,” Seokmin says. “Shua, he’s--well, let’s just say he looks up to Oscar Wilde a lot.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Lots of people look up to Oscar Wilde.”

“No, I mean, like, he’s not into commitment. And you’re kind of...a serial monogamizer.”

“I can do casual.”

Seokmin sighs. “Sure.”

“Well. Oscar Wilde gave up his career and freedom for love. And if I can do casual, then I’m sure Jisoo could--”

Seokmin shakes his head. “He didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Hyung, maybe this isn’t my place to say--but do you know why Shua moved here from the US?”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows furrow. “To study literature?”

“Because his highschool boyfriend died--on a normal Thursday afternoon, he had an aneurysm while they were in class. Senior year, a week before graduation and he was gone. Shua didn't march because he was at the funeral. It’s been years but maybe Shua is the biggest romantic of all, kinda: he told me once, back when I first met him, that he doesn’t think he’ll ever love that way again. That the body is one thing, but the heart is entirely another--well, you know how he gets.”

“Oh,” Jeonghan says, feeling all of the hope he hadn’t known he’d been clinging onto pour out of him, a fire put out even before it’s been properly lit. “Okay, that’s reasonable. I understand how that’d happen. Anyway, don’t worry about it. We’re fine. Just friends who meet up. Easy peasy.”

Seokmin looks unconvinced but doesn’t push.

Jeonghan tries to smile but his heart lurches for Jisoo--the notes written in the margins of his books coming back to him.

Do we just chase ghosts that have haunted us since time immemorial?

 

The room is Standard Deluxe: one bed, a little more than spartan with the generous provision of not one but two pillows. The ceiling is mirrored. There are no windows. The tub is in the bedroom. Jeonghan cleaned it with some disinfectant he’d brought himself, the gloves and sponge and empty bottle disposed of in the bathroom. He’d also brought a scented candle to get rid of that weird, motel smell like too much detergent spilt over too small an interval of time. Vanilla Musk and Winter Fig, whatever that’s supposed to smell like. The room is warm, glowing soft.

He washes up before Jisoo arrives, washes his face, tries not to look like he’s worked too hard to look good. He unbuttons the first two buttons on his shirt, undoes the cuffs and rolls up his sleeves, untucks his shirt. _Better._

The electric buzz of the doorbell.

He takes a deep breath, opens the door and there he is: all doe eyes and mischievous smile, his voice soft, his hair undone, floppy over his eyes today. He’s wearing a coat over his sweater--it looks soft. Jeonghan wants to hug him, to hold him, to make things okay. But he can’t. Jisoo hadn’t told him that, perhaps for this reason.

He settles for the most normal thing to say.

“Hey. Sorry about the candle. I hate the way motels smell.”

Jisoo grins, stepping into the room and shrugging off his coat, his scarf. “You have a lot of experience with motels, Jeonghan-hyungie?”

Jeonghan smiles sadly at the pet name, decides on the truth. “I used to go to them a lot before I broke up with my long-term ex-boyfriend. We were together for two or something years, so you do the math. That’s a lot of motel rooms.”

Jisoo nods. “I see. This is my first time in a love hotel.”

“What? Well, I mean--I just thought--”

“--that because I like to fuck around, I must be some kind of sexpert?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “You blew me in the bathroom of a bar.”

Jisoo laughs. “I had a boyfriend back home but we mostly did it in his car. We used to park up by this hill that overlooked the city. It was either that or his house when his parents weren’t home. And then I moved back here, and well, you know. Wonwoo’s an awesome roommate for his dependability--if he has class at 2:30 PM, he’ll be in class at 2:30 PM. So it was either my place or their place if they lived alone.”

Jeonghan nods, trying not to let the fact sting, trying not to imagine other men in Jisoo's bed, trying to get used to the cold, hard truth. _There were other guys before you, there’ll be other guys after you._

Jisoo studies Jeonghan’s expression, smooths his thumbs over the crease between Jeonghan’s brows. “Not to get all Joker on you, but why so serious? Don’t worry, it’s my first time in a love hotel but I’m a quick learner. If you like it better here, we can come back next time instead of doing it back home.”

Jeonghan flashes him a grin that he knows doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You sound like a cheesy R&B song. It’s not my first time but baby we can pretend or something like that.”

Jisoo shrugs, tugging Jeonghan closer by the collar of his shirt. “Well, if you’re into that.”

 

It catches Jisoo off-guard--Jeonghan is different today. Still a dirty talker, his kisses still torrid, hands still hungry as they stroke Jisoo, as his fingers pry him open, as their bodies slide slick against each other: but there is a tenderness there, a gentleness in the way that he kisses down the thin skin of Jisoo’s ribs, the way that he lingers on the hollow of his hips, the way that he pulls off his pants, taking care to have them land on the chair by the bedside table. He tries to resist it, tries to pin Jeonghan down, but even when Jeonghan lets himself be overcome, Jisoo finds it hard not to respond. It’s been so long since he’s been held like this, since he’s been kissed like this, felt like this.

There are no _fuck, fuck, fucks_ , just _you look so damn beautiful like that_ , just _has anyone told you how gorgeous you look when you make those noises, baby_.

And Jisoo finds himself kissing Jeonghan back slow, finds himself holding him closer than usual, finds himself nuzzling the skin of his neck, savoring the line of his shoulders as he licks soft, his mouth finding Jeonghan’s nipples, leaving bruises on the length of his torso. When they finally fuck, Jisoo riding Jeonghan, he finds himself rocking slow, their hands intertwined, the sounds they make not loud, not hurried, not furious but soft, passionate but vulnerable. Jisoo makes the mistake of looking into Jeonghan’s eyes--he holds Jisoo’s gaze as if wanting to memorize the moment, as if holding him in place, as if loving him.

He finds himself reciprocating, swapping out the _like that, Jeonghan-hyungie_ for _you feel so good, Jeonghan,_ turning in the _oh yeah, fuck me_ for the _yes, please, just like that, please._

When they finally climax, they do it within seconds of each other: Jeonghan having drawn Jisoo close to him, holding him to his chest as he thrusts into him a final time, one hand resting on the small of his back. They cry out each others names, lips crashing into skin, the call for each other buried in flesh, in hair, against lips. When they collapse against each other, sated and exhausted, relieved, the only sound that registers is the beating of each others’ hearts.

Jeonghan is terrified, knows he’s done just what Seokmin had warned him not to do: the warning becoming a catalyst, the algorithm upending itself.

Jisoo is scared shitless, knows that his weakness has been found: that under the disguise of his Gatsby has been infiltrated somehow--he is lost and aching and wanting to be loved.

The first time, Jeonghan thinks. How can something feel like the first time when you’ve fucked countless times already?

He thinks back to that afternoon in Jisoo’s room, thinks of the way the sun fell on his face, thinks of the way that they had laughed and fallen asleep together despite barely knowing each other back then.

Jisoo closes his eyes, tries not to think of love and how fragile life is, of how quickly comedia trips into tragedia--the biggest capital-t Truth he’s learned from studying literature. _Just this moment,_ he thinks. _I’ll let myself have this just a moment longer._

“Do you want to take a bath in the tub?” Jeonghan asks, pressing a kiss to Jisoo’s temple. “I disinfected it myself. With 99.9% germs killed for sure.”

Jisoo grins, studying Jeonghan’s face. _I’ll let myself have you just a moment longer--the first and the last time here, in this place made for love._ “You’re such a weirdo.”

Jeonghan laughs. “You like, it though.”

Jisoo’s heart lurches with sadness, filled to the brim with fondness and delight as he lets Jeonghan lead him to the tub. Silently, he bids him goodbye. 

Jeonghan turns on the tap, the tub starts to fill, bubble. He helps Jisoo in, leading him by the hand and when they sit together in the warmth, it feels like a hug. Jisoo knows not seeing him again will be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY JOSHUA DAY EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


End file.
